


Forbidden Music

by basilique



Category: Merlin (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Porn, Daydreaming, F/M, Forbidden Love, Forbidden Sex, Forest Sex, Gwen-centric, Het, Lust, Lust at First Sight, Multi, Porn With Plot, Princess Gwen, Public Masturbation, Romance, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, based on a sex dream I had, my first het! :), trysts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 16:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10283363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilique/pseuds/basilique
Summary: In a land of small clans feuding and fighting for dominance, Princess Gwen must make a political marriage for the sake of her people. However, on the very night that her engagement is announced, she falls desperately in lust with a traveling musician. Will Gwen's lust for this "Finn" ever be satisfied? And what if there's more too it than lust...what will happen if they fall in love? ;)





	1. Chapter 1

She first saw him at the festival of her twentieth birthday. 

Her father, the clan’s king, had organized the festival more for his sake than for hers, as he was arranging a marriage for her with a celebrated architect from a neighboring clan. It was a political marriage, and though she did not think much of the man, she was a shrewd political strategist, and she understood the convenience of the marriage. She was to share a dance with him during the night’s festivities, and she had resigned herself to the tedium of the dance. 

In fact, she had almost completely resigned herself to the entire marriage plot, when her eyes fell on _him_. 

He was her father’s new hired musician. And he came from afar; from far beyond the Lakes of Rice, the salt marshes, even the flat-topped hills of the East. He came surrounded by a mist of stories; tales of accomplishments and feats that could not possibly be true. It was said that he was a warrior, trained from birth to kill by the Renian people, but that he had thrown down his helmet before shedding his first blood, because his heart was as tender as a bird’s bones, and he could not bare to hurt another living being. 

It was also rumored that he had only taken up music after fleeing the Renian order, and that he had learned to play and sing a thousand songs in less than a year. He was gifted with a brilliant mind and nimble fingers. He had escaped imprisonment, wandered the Dust Lands and drank from the same streams as the thick-skinned beasts that thrived on those scorched plateaus. He had ridden on the back of a fabled giant falcon, and made love to the fabled messiah of the dust lands, the girl they said would bring back the green. 

But surely none of this could be true. Because looking at him now, Gwen could see that he was far too young to have done very much at all with his life. He could only be a year or two older than she was, in fact. 

But he was _beautiful_ , with a vibrant, strong body, and a face that looked to have been smoothed and chiseled by the loving hand of a goddess. 

Gwen had descended the stone steps from the bath house where her serving girls had dressed her in a thin, elegant blue dress that left slits to display her legs and arms. She had stepped out onto the crowded beach and graciously held out her arms to the crowd of her admiring people. She had smiled a charming, political smile at Triam, her future husband, and made her way toward her father and his advisors. But then she had laid eyes on the musician and stopped, entirely spellbound, and staring like an unrefined child as the crowds began to mingle, to talk, to begin to dance. 

The musician plucked a round stringed instrument with his eyes gently closed, and the warm light of early evening outlined him like a spirit from another world. But when she stopped, spellbound by his song, and his face, he opened his eyes. 

Though his fingers never paused, picking expertly at his strings to produce a strange, sweet tune, Gwen saw his eyebrows rise ever-so-slightly as his gaze met hers. 

Gwen had come late into her beauty. For most of her life she had been awkward, covering herself in layers and hoping that no one was looking at her too closely. But in the last year, her womanhood had truly come into bloom, and it had met with the practical grace that she had always carried, to create a rich, unusual beauty. Gwen was kind and modest, but she had learned quickly to charm men into doing her bidding, because her judgment was excellent, and somebody had to keep the clan secure and prosperous. 

But Gwen had never before felt any _desire_ to be thought beautiful, never felt such a sudden, urgent wanting to be wanted. 

The minstrel’s gaze traveled from her shocked eyes to the crown of dark forest flowers in her hair, and then scanned over her bare arms, which were luminous with the gloss of youth and health, and over her black hair, which hung down to her lower back, her legs, exposed as a gentle gust of wind blew her thin dress tight against her body. 

He raised his eyes to back to hers for just a moment, and gave her a close-lipped smile, before he closed his eyes again and fell back into his music. 

It was _inscrutable_. Was it a look of desire, or just a polite acknowledgement of her and her royalty? 

Gwen’s heart was hammering. She forced herself to turn away from him and keep walking, her legs a little shaky underneath her.


	2. Chapter 2

As the sun began to set, the people drank and laughed, caught-up in their merriment, and Gwen waded into the sea up to her ankles. She was still in plain view of the festivities, but there was no one else so far down the beach, and for the moment, at least, it seemed that she could be alone. She wanted to be alone in her canopied bed, to run her hands over her body and roll over and over herself, remembering the way he had looked at her body, then quickly looked away. Why had he looked away? His eyes had _tickled_ her, like dragonflies buzzing over her skin. With just a glance, he had sent a flutter between her legs. He had made her _hot_ there. 

Gwen waded out into the water, up to her knees, and then glanced back at the shore. She felt strangely weak and feverish, and she did not care that she was getting her dress wet. It would dry quickly, probably be perfectly fine by the time she had to dance a fire-lit dance with Triam, and if she stole only a few minutes to herself in the water, her absence from the party might go unnoticed. 

The sun was setting, red and gold, on the warm sea. 

An idea occurred to her. It was a bad idea; if she was caught, she'd be humiliated. But it was also a very _good_ idea, and one that she just couldn't pass over. 

She waded deeper into the water, and glanced nervously over her shoulder. But no one on the beach was paying any attention to her. She could steal a few moments, just to take the edge off...just to cool herself off a little bit... 

Neck-deep in the water she slid one hand into the slit of her dress, and touched herself between her legs. Her whole body thrilled when her fingers slid lightly over the lips of her pussy; she was only yards away from the crowd that was there to celebrate _her_. She was the center of attention of this party, and yet she was risking _this_...but she couldn't resist it. 

She rubbed her hand side to side between her legs. 

Gwen had tried touching herself before, after her serving girls were asleep, but it had never before felt so good as it did right now. Her face turned away from the beach, she rotated her hips, pressing hard against her hand, and closed her eyes, losing all sense of where she was or who was watching her as the pleasure grew, greedy and insistent. She tried rubbing up and down, and bent her knees to spread her legs wider apart, and _oh_ , yes... 

But suddenly, she felt her feet pulled out from under her. 

She was moving, moving fast, away from the beach. _She was being dragged out to sea._ She pointed her toes and reached down with her feet, but they dangled in the water and she could not reach the bottom. The current was pulling her out to sea! “Riptide”, she thought, jerking out of her hazy pleasure, back to reality, and struck out with her right arm to swim to the shore. 

She had escaped from riptides before, of course; she was the princess of a seaside clan. She knew how to angle herself to escape the current. But this current was strong. It was so strong that even as she kicked and threw her weight toward the far end of the beach, she was moving backward, further out to sea. 

She struggled, and told herself to stay calm, but she could not escape the current, and her muscles were beginning to fatigue. She did not want to yell for help, but it seemed to be her only chance. She opened her mouth and drew a breath with difficulty, but before she could shout, she was distracted by a loud splash. She looked toward the beach to see a man swimming toward her with a strong, determined breaststroke, and she realized, with a jolt, that it was _him_. 

She swallowed her yell, and he reached her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her body against his. 

“Can you hold onto me?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she gasped. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he struck out, cutting through the current at an angle and making for a little secluded alcove down the beach. 

*

The minstrel got his feet underneath him in the shallows and hoisted her, dripping wet, onto the warm sand. They were on a crescent of white beach, concealed from the festival by a narrow strip of forest. 

“Are you alright, your highness?” he asked, out of breath, as he lay her down on the sand. 

“Yes…” She was lying on her back, looking up at him as he leaned over her, his naked torso shining with sweat and seawater. “Thank you.” 

“Your people will be here any moment,” he panted. “Everyone saw me go in after you.” 

“What is your name?” she asked. 

“Finn.” 

“Finn, I-.” her breath caught. “I wish to see you. Alone.” 

She had never before been so forward with a man. 

He looked into her eyes, and then slowly, reluctantly, let his gaze slide down her body, as it had before. Her soaking wet dress was clinging to her body. Her nipples were clearly visible, standing-up hard, her dress clung to the curves of her waist, and outlined the slit between her legs. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed with adrenaline and desire. 

He looked down at the sand, averting his eyes from her indecency. He was _shy_ , she realized. It was not what she would have expected. A handsome man with a casanova past? She would have expected him to be roguish. And perhaps, in a way, he was. But his roguish flirtatiousness was touched by a side of shy sweetness. 

“You were watching me,” she said. "No one else noticed, but you saw me get caught in the riptide. Your eyes were on me." 

“I was hired by your father for your pleasure, your highness," he said after a moment. “But only for your pleasure in music.” 

Her royal pride and poise failed her, and she reached up to touch his cheek, gazing into his eyes. 

“Please,” she whispered. 

His breath caught in his chest. For a moment, they stared into each others' eyes. 

And then he smiled a sideways smile."Well, we are alone right now, aren't we? Would a few seconds be enough for you?" 

Her heart beat furiously fast. "It would certainly be a good start," she said evenly. 

Finn glanced up at the forest to ensure that the crowd had not yet reached their little beach. Then looked back into her eyes, and lifted her dress up around her knees. 

She inhaled hard, and held her breath, afraid that he might be only teasing her. 

But then, still with that cocky little smile, he ran his rough musician’s fingers from her knee, down the sensitive skin of her thigh, and casually slid his thick middle finger over her clit and into her pussy. 

Gwen _gasped_ , and grabbed handfuls of the sand on either side of her. A shock of pleasure went through her, all the blood in her body rushing between her legs, to pulse around his finger. But a moment later, his hand was gone, and he flipped her dress back down as her people began crashing through the underbrush toward them, their eyes wild with worry. 

"The princess is alright!" Finn called, and Gwen staggered to her feet. Her legs were weak; she could barely stand. And it was lucky that she had the riptide to blame. But it was not because of the riptide.


End file.
